


dancing on my own

by niniadepapa



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/pseuds/niniadepapa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>meeting strangers at clubs and faking you're dating in order to get inside a vip room. life, really. <br/>unashamedly au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dancing on my own

**Author's Note:**

> *shrugs* idek. au. because fighting with bouncers at clubs and fake relationships are fun.

Emma elbowed her way through the mass of writhing bodies bouncing and dancing to the beat thrumming from the speakers. She ungracefully tripped over a knocked-down glass on the floor, swearing angrily under her breath and barking at some random guy who tried to feel a cop as she side-stepped him in her way on wobbly feet to the bar. Not recognizing any face once she got there, she fished her phone from the depths of her purse, and set to call her best friend with clumsy fingers.

( _Of_   _course_  she had to hung up with a stream of neverending apologies once she realized she had indeed not called Ruby, but her grandma instead. Great move, Emma.) 

After her failed attempt, she finally succeeded in calling Ruby, though it wasn’t until the third try that her friend picked it up and Emma could hear the same song playing in the club being blasted through the phone, signaling that Ruby hadn’t left. 

“Emma?”

“Where the hell are you?” she angrily yelled, hoping her friend could hear her over Rihanna’s lyrics. 

“Where the hell are  _you_?” Ruby’s shrilling voice was unmistakable no matter the circumstances. 

“I’m at the bar! I went to the restroom for a second and when I came back you were all gone!”

“Jeez - Sorry, I thought you were already here!”

Emma frowned, confused. “Where is  _here_?”

She tried to make out her friend’s voice, but only caught bits and pieces. “ We - VIP room! I think - wait - Graham says it’s - Neverland…? - something! Come down here! We’ll meet you at the bar!”

There was a snapping sound and soon enough the line went off, and she found herself standing there, holding the phone to her ear like a total idiot and wondering for the hundredth time  _why_  she had to go and listen to her friends when they begged for her to go out with them. Or why had she had decided that sharing an entire tequila bottle with Victor - her appointed drinking buddy for the night - would do her any good in the short run. 

She cautiously asked the bartender about this so-called VIP room Ruby had told her about, and he pointed towards a door on the other side of the dancefloor, almost hidden by a pretty arrangement of vines and leaves with small yellow and white flowers from what she could see. She thanked him, ignoring the pitying expression on his face as he sent her off, and made her way over there when she realized there was a pretty buff and impressively tall bouncer guarding the entrance. 

To make things worse, there also was a very lonely and very drunk girl clearly begging him to let her in, almost clinging to his arm. 

God, she was fucked.

She had already had a pretty colorful run-in with the bouncer at the door earlier, and she didn’t think she’d get a free pass so easily. She had not so politely asked - or maybe slurred would be more accurate - for the manager when she had realized that the boys in their group had to pay to get in whereas girls didn’t. After that, they made sure to tel her they were not going to let her in, and she had been about to take a cab home when Tink had talked to some friend of hers, Peter or something, who allowed all of them in for free. It had probably been him who had let them inside this fancy VIP room, if she had to bet on anything. 

She shook her head, breathing heavily and clearing her mind of anything inconsequential, trying to gather herself before she attempted to get in. Chin up, short strides, sway of hips, charming smile - easy enough. She got this. She  _totally_  got this.

She stepped towards the door when her foot caught on a root on the ground and she felt how gravity took a hold on her, but out of nowhere a pair of hands gripped her arms and steadied her, letting the air inside her lungs out in a whoosh. There was a  _very_  solid,  _very_ male, and  _very_  pleasantly warm body pressed behind her, still holding her, and before she could mutter a grumbling apology and get on with her night, one of said male and pleasantly warm arms snaked around her waist. She squeaked in surprise, and turned in the circle of the stranger’s arms to give him a piece of her mind, but he spoke before she had even opened her mouth. 

“Do you want to get inside or not?”

She blinked, stunned. “Where?”

He gave her a look. “Second door to the right. Posh, exclusive VIP room.  _Neverland_. I thought that’s where you were headed?”

The cocky attractive bastard nodded behind her, where the bouncer had missed Emma’s failed faceplant, probably too distracted in keeping a safe distance between the other drunk girl standing there and him. “Yeah, but…”

He whistled quietly. “Well, I’m sorry love, but you won’t probably get in there by yourself. I’ve been observing myself for a while and unless it’s couples looking cozy or very obvious and bare-skinned ladies, they won’t let you in.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly annoyed, and after a split-moment decision, she brazenly rearranged her top, letting the strap of her dress drop over her shoulder. “Who says I can’t charm my way in on my on with - ah - my lady talents?” She secretly enjoyed way too much how his eyes followed the movement, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped. 

He appeared to recover from the little show, and smirked at her knowingly. “Considering the poor state you’re in, I’d say you’re screwed. But of course, be my guest,” he proposed, waving a mocking hand as if letting her walk in front of him. When she stared dubiously in the bouncer’s direction - who still had to take notice of them standing there, - he tapped her arm to gain her attention. “I was merely trying to hep. You seemed awfully eager to join your boyfriend inside.”

She gave him the dirtiest look she could muster in her admittedly drunken state. “No boyfriend waiting for me.” 

He grinned, and it was so eager and honest that for one mad moment she felt compelled to match him with a smile of her own. She didn’t, though. “Well, then you won’t mind me posing as yours for thirty seconds, won’t you?”

She considered the pros and cons. 

If she tried on her own, she didn’t think she’d have a second chance on this guy’s arm. She’d have to call for Ruby and wait until they called their friend who ay or may not be around to tell the bouncer to let her in. By that time she may have fled already, bored and drunk out of her ass. 

If she otherwise went with him, they may get inside and she could find her friends soon enough.  

She inspected him closely for a moment, taking in the jet black hair, piercing blue eyes and the charms dangling from his neck. And the stubble.

_Damn_ , she had a thing for the stubble.

She eventually came to the conclusion that, as fake boyfriends went, she could do way worse. She sighed, flapping with her hand for him to proceed, and he didn’t wait on ceremony. Looping an arm around her waist, he urged her to follow his steps as he smoothly walked to the vine-covered door. With a praising look and a quick nod, no second glance directed at them, they were let inside.

Emma’s sputtering sound of disbelief was luckily overshadowed by the girl at the door’s outraged shriek.

Emma snickered under her breath.

She stole a surreptitious glance at her companion, and couldn’t help but admire the confident way in which he had acted. As soon as they were in, she made to put some distance between them, and almost lost her balance for the third time in the last ten minutes - that tequila had definitely been a  _terrible_  idea, she was  _never_  drinking with Victor again, - and belatedly realized that there was no way she’d have made it inside on her own. 

“Easy, there,” he said, a touch of concern in his voice. She passed a hand through her mussed hair, biting her lip embarrassedly. She was careful not to meet his eyes.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He chuckled quietly, letting his hands drop from her hips after making sure she was not going to fall again. “It got us in here, didn’t it? We make quite the team.” 

She felt her lips curl in amusement, and she shook her head. “Yeah, I guess.” She gave a quick look around, taking in the flickering lights adorning the walls and vines tangled with each other falling from the ceiling, some of the tiny flowers she had glimpsed earlier falling on the considerably smaller crowd in the room. Finally, right as she had said, she spotted a streak of red hair flying around by the bar, indicating that Ruby was probably right in her element dazing a bunch of guys as she danced. She pointed in her direction lamely. “I should go, my friends must be worried.”

“Sure. It’s been a pleasure, miss…?” He rose an eyebrow expectantly, and she rolled her eyes.

“Swan. Emma Swan.”

He smiled fondly, and grazed her with a freaking-for-real bow. “Killian Jones. See you around, Swan. If you find yourself in need of a crime partner, you know where to find me.”

She grinned, amused despite herself. “Sure thing. Bye, Jones.”

He caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, brushing his lips briefly over her knuckles and winking before turning on his heel and disappearing in the crowd.

* * *

 

Needless to say, not long after that, Emma went in his search once her friends declared that she by no means was allowed to drink anything else, water withstanding. She found him lounging against a wall, talking animatedly to a pretty brunette whose hand kept drawing circles on his bare arm. He looked completely stunned as Emma appeared on thin air before him, reached out and took his hand in hers, dragging him to another corner of the room and sharing her predicament with him. He stared at her appraisingly, as if trying to figure out why in hell would she need  _his_  help of all people, - and she kept still asking herself the same question, mind you, - knowing that she could charm any idiot out of his mind to buy her a drink. He eventually chose not to comment, picking up his wallet from his pocket. She slapped it away from her, remarking angrily how she had no intention to let him buy her any drinks. She was met with a baffled look, and she sighed exasperatedly. 

An hour later, they had had at least four drinks, three rounds of shots and two lollipops that a beautiful redhead bartender had offered them with a wink for free. 

How they managed, you say? 

Mainly by one of them picking up full glasses left unattended while the other distracted its owner with the lamest conversation ever. Also by convincing a drunk businessman who was there apparently celebrating his promotion with his colleagues at the lounging area to get everybody a round of shots for the hell of it. Oh, and by convincing a newbie bartender that he had mixed their orders and required a second refill before they called for the manager. 

It was all pretty damn amusing, if she said so herself.

They clinked their glasses together merrily, hiding in a corner as to not look too pleased by their haul and raise anybody’s suspicions. They even exchanged stories about some of their best performances to sneak drinks other nights, offering tips to the other even if some of them were mostly impractical if you didn’t have cleavage to distract a prey. (Which Jones deemed of ‘outrageous’.) (He was such a dork,  _God_.) 

She didn’t admit that it had been one of the best nights she had had in ages.

She most certainly did  _not_  trace the shades the colored-lights reflected on his skin, laughing as he tried to guess which color it was at the moment.

She definitely didn’t take his hand at every chance she had, especially not when she noticed the brunette who had been all over him earlier glaring at them.

She didn’t grip the hair at the nape of his neck, caressing the soft strand and smiling, pleased, at his pained expression and murmured words.

But most of all, she didn’t kiss him. At all. Nope. No lips on lips, tongue against tongue, teeth clicking desperately in their haste to taste, bite and  _consume_. 

(Except she did  _all_  of those things.)

She didn’t let him accompany her home. She didn’t ask him to join her for a last nightcap - to which he guffawed, adding that it was possibly time for them to stop drinking. She didn’t throw herself at him as soon as the door closed behind them, leading them to the bedroom in a mess of limbs and clothes trailing behind them on the ground. 

(Except she did  _all_  of those things, too.)

( _Damn_.)

(She was  _so_  not drinking with Victor ever again.)

* * *

 

(She never got to be Victor’s drinking buddy again.) (Killian wouldn’t let her, giving himself that title.) (And others that she wouldn’t let him boast around of.)

(They never used the ‘b’ word.) 

(No, she wasn’t talking about ‘boob’.)


End file.
